darkness plays with clouds
hint at full moon
Who needs Macy’s? For weeks, the neighborhood has been in full fireworks mode, with displays launching from both sidewalks and the rooftops of at least 5 surrounding buildings. Last night they were still going off at 5am. Strangely, I’ve learned to sleep (mostly) through them.
So the moon had to compete with both on and off cloudcover and the rocket’s red glare…
I wonder if it will be quiet tonight…(not really…this will go on for a few more weeks I’m sure…it hasn’t been this noisy in June and July since the 70s)
For Frank Tassone’s #haikai challenge, buck moon.
The food line outside my window last week.
the language of fasting
chants with hungry tongues
raw shadows eating
drunk on the bitter beauty
why do we worship men
who fiddle with words
as need burns?
this blurred journey
not only nameless but
all the rhythms are abbreviated–
in a silent cinematic slow motion–
a composite of fragments
neither awake nor asleep–
a perpetual absence
what when where
For dVerse, where Linda has given us the quadrille word of slip, and earthweal, where Brendan asks, “What comes next?”
My mother’s cousin Paul was a pilot who was shot down and killed in WWII. She often spoke of him with admiration and affection.
When my mother died, she left boxes of unidentified family photos; my aunt helped a bit with identifications, but she was much younger than her siblings, and had not known the southern Ohio cousins very well. In my mother’s address book, I found her second cousin Mona, Paul’s niece, who patiently looked through many photo scans I emailed her.
Finally I had a face to put to my mother’s words.
silence speaks your name–
through distant shadows of trees
crow answers, calling
This is a revision of a post from 2015. However we are spending this day, let’s take a moment to remember those who served their country and sacrificed their lives so that we could enjoy our own.
For Frank Tassone’s #Haikai Challenge #140, Memorial Day.
hidden under flowered fields
waiting for the moon
For Frank Tassone’s #Haikai Challenge.
The moon was playing hide and seek with the clouds last night.
I started with a question, as I so often do: what kind of alive am I? A black and white head resting on a mélange of pattern and color—my mask, the face I offered to the world, was meant to be unnoticed. Fade to grey, merge with the background, don’t draw attention, don’t stand out. Could I change?
Alas, my clothing choices have remained much the same since I questioned them in 2016. Black, black and more black. A brightly colored scarf, perhaps. I still wish to remain unperceived as I make my way through the world. But now I wonder: is alive only visible on the surface of things? Or can we gift the world with rainbows from the inside out?
unseen waves absorbed
reflected transformed singing
colors dancing light
For Kim’s dVerse prompt: Snapshots of our Lives. You can see the original post with the complete self-portrait collage, as well as the Delmore Schwartz poem that inspired my original poem, here.
My 100 Self-Portrait Project is still stalled at #21.
After not venturing outside at all for weeks, I finally worked up the courage to take the elevator down to the basement and exit the back door, crossing the street to the park. My apartment windows face Broadway and the view this weekend was especially chilly and grey.
I figured the bitter wind and drizzle, plus the early hour, would keep the walkway fairly empty, and I was right. A few joggers, some dog walkers, a man with a shopping cart.
I could hear robins, and then two appeared on the path right in front of me. I was in a different time and space. The world had been returned to me in color, at least for half an hour on a Sunday morning.
outside it’s spring–
inside winter remains
For Frank Tassone’s #Haikai Challenge #132, Coronavirus.
where time meets
upon what? faded backdrops
absorb the opening when
shadowed by the hand–
narratives—so small and so
incompletely, barely, cast
For dVerse, Frank asked us to compose a poem ending with a couplet.
I hold out
my hands and wait for
the moon to
close my eyes to balance on
the edge of the light
myself, quiet the
the colors beyond darkness–
depths turned inside out
Shadorma for Colleen’s #Tanka Tuesday words, give and shake. Photos are of last night’s full moon as seen from the sidewalk in front of where I live.
Also linking to OLN at dVerse, hosted by Grace.
I think the Oracle was caught up in the memory of Sue Vincent’s waltz…
what we sing
blue moon music
not sad at all
she asked me to dance
beneath the whispered wind
shining through mist
like the still light
after a storm
What better dance partner than the moon?